She was, like, twelve and came up to my knee.
You know it's time to retire when you just can't be arsed giggling and being girly for some blonde tweeny in a recruitment agency.
I think my midget niece is taller than the little chicky was.
(my niece isn't actually a midget - she's just short)
Don't think that job's going to happen.
But I don't care at the moment, because I finally got organised with the whole unemployment thing and hopefully will get paid some money next week, which is good cause I shall be sick of toast and cheesy pasta by then even though I am on a tea binge. Tea and books.
My days are zipping past immersed as I am in other worlds and magic and lisping golden haired children in blue suits who is actually a wizard in disguise, much to the disgust of his lady wife who finds the overwhelming cutesiness of it all revolting.
Dianne Wynne Jones is awesome.
I am excessively bummed to find out she has cancer.
Favourite authors are supposed to live forever so as to provide a steady stream of books I know I will like.